Clean, Dirty, Oh yeah and Attention

The floor is clean, the bathroom, clean, the laundry is done and the dishwasher is running. Did Picasso do this?  Nope.  I do not want to be Picasso, really I don't, I prefer Manet, Turner, Delacroix, Durer, Masaccio....  I don't think their lives were all fun and games, but perhaps they had fewer distractions?  Perhaps not, I have heat and medicine and so far, no plague....

I do have Mommy and household chores, phones, email, social media,computer games, TV; generally love and bad habits.  Not really much about which I ought to complain.  Perhaps that's the biggest distraction in our lives, unmet expectations.  We complain when,  just fill in the blank.

Every once in a while, I play solitaire on my computer.  I enjoy it and I'm pretty good at it. Solitaire was put on computers to help people get better at using the mouse.  It was also a great way to kill time in the age of dial-up.  When an internet page takes a few seconds longer than that to which I am accustomed, I get angry and impatient, and then I remember solitaire and dial up, and I wonder what is wrong with me.

I have noticed in the studio, where I do not take a computer and I have no TV, that my attention span is better.  Each day I work there it gets better still.  Then when I take a day to work at home, doing this that and the other thing, I lose it all and have to start building up my ability to stay on task, to look, to be focused. It is a skill, and I have to work at it. When I have it, the joy returns.  I can get lost in the image, lost in the work. Life becomes good again.

The same is true of reading.  I cannot read in light, the way I do in paper and ink.  I like the kinesthetics of the page and the ability to flip back, by feel, to find a reference point I want to re-check. I need to re-check when I read; what did that character say? In what country is this set? What color is his tie? The paper keeps me focused and in touch, literally, with the activity. I know where the words I want to find are, by the feel of the page, visually and physically.

David Hockney made a lovely image on his iPad, the new printmaking tool.  The image is available in an edition of 100.  Art suppliers now make fine paper for computer printers, 8/12 x 11 inches, all rag, French paper. I have not yet made an image on my Kindle, worth printing on such beautiful stuff. I am trying, but it seems so clean and slick to draw in light.  I am neither clean nor slick and I like it that way.

Now where is that lovely charcoal and gooey, black, oil based ink?


      PigPen

Madness

I am exhausted.  What a day!  Torrential rain, warning about storms, which fortunately never came to be, a twenty four hour head, neck, leg and foot ache (never paint a canvas THAT large) ebola and a cuckoo stock market.  They finally found weapons of mass destruction or let it be known that they were found, in Iraq. Obama says he will be sure to dispatch CDC teams within twenty four hours of a case of Ebola - what?  In twenty four hours the patient could be on an airplane.

The world is now officially insane.

The only thing about today that seemed correct was the weather channel's listing of the aches and pains index around my - neck - of the woods.  It was listed as moderate and it was moderately uncomfortable - all day and night. The good news there is that I got to eat the peas which I defrosted trying to ice my aches and pains. They made a fine ice pack on my aching neck. Painting over your head, while wearing bi-focals and fighting arthritis of the neck is not a good idea. I may lay the canvas on  the floor. I may lay myself on the floor; perhaps even kick and scream, but the downstairs neighbors will not be pleased.

My show is supposed to open in January, unless we all have ebola.  What the hell was so damn important in Cleveland, CLEVELAND? Please, I pray, that it was not parents weekend at some college.

If this is the way my imuno -suppressed body is going to get used up, I am going to smoke, drink and generally have great time.  Why not? Anybody else?  Cocktails and Marlboros at noon.

Boats, Worries and Dreams

I have had three days off from the studio.  I needed them.  I have FOUR canvases staring at me and I am so excited to finish them I can't stand it.  This is particularly goofy since one canvas is fighting me tooth and nail, and the other three are still being prepped to receive paint.  Ha!

I avoided the press today.  I feel very pressured to be extra good at the medium my degree bears.  I am supposed to be so great at printmaking, but I have done very little in the last few centuries.  You notice Dracula never returns to Transylvania, so why am I? Of course, he traveled with his own dirt.

My husband and I went to the Annapolis, US Boat Show, on Friday.  It was drizzly and a little cold, but it was lots of fun and nice to not be roasting from the heat.  The show is for sailboats and they were lovely; many were huge and extremely expensive.  We were asked to only board in bare feet and since I am not allowed to be barefoot (I even swim in sandals) I did not board many boats and no million dollar ones. Nevertheless it was fun to dream about vacations aboard ship, cruising the Mediterranean, Ionian and Aegean seas. Lolling in bunks tucked into sloping sides of fiberglass, listening to the soft lap of the waves.  Of course I could also be rolled right out of the bunk in a storm that blew up so quickly I would call out to Poseidon in a panicked promise to never darken his beautiful waters again. I always try to see two sides of every coin; sometimes I can even see four or five.

We all have our expensive fantasies, boats, travel, planes, cars, art supplies; things we would do if we won the lottery.  I would set up some scholarship funds, travel, get a studio and someone to do all that darn yard work.  New kitchen (mine is 1967 original including gold electric stove, but hey three our of four burners still work and I love that thing). New bathrooms - also original.  Fewer worries, ah fewer worries; "Ay, there's the rub."  having money is a worry too.  Having anything is a worry; having nothing is a bigger worry.  I worry less than I used to, but I still worry, which is why I took three days off to rest, dream and to drive around on a beautiful Sunday, looking at the beauty of a crisp fall day.

Tomorrow, if the press room is free, I will tackle that and I will face that painting that wants to break me and shore it up into something better yet. It wants to fight, but I want to bring it out of itself; I better win and fast, the blank canvasses have big eyes right now.

Lifetime Debris

Today I helped to clean out another house of an elderly person no longer able to inhabit her space.  It is usually a her whose life is being boxed and removed, as women typically outlive their spouses; she is no exception.

Like most of the people whose lives are being boxed, we cannot quite figure out why they have the things they do.  Embroidered linens, several sets of bone china, some intact, others so chipped as to be unsafe, but still on the shelves.  Mismatched glasses, crab dishes, multiple salad sets, opera gloves; detritus of another era, another life and better health.

I always come to the same nagging, terrifying question:  when they come for my stuff what will they think?  Madwoman, followed by the repetitious "Why did she save this?"  and coupled with "What in the hell did she need this for?"

When I die I want to be cremated and I want my childhood stuffed toy to be burned with me. He must never be thrown into the trash (he is bound with stitches all over, duct tape to hold his battered fibers in place and carefully stowed for that moment, too cherished to be loved anymore).  The rest of my stuff will be up to those after me. In the meantime I should lessen the burden of junk.  I hope they can sell or give away my artwork, but again, it will not be my problem then.

What in your closet?

Time, Distance and Rest

I spent the morning in Utrecht/Dick Blick getting art supplies.  Then I lugged them up all 63 stairs to my studio; five yards of CD12  (i.e. 12 ounces per square yard) canvas and twelve double weight stretcher bars ranging in size from 36" to 72" - yikes!  Then I descended to the press room to pull monotypes, (one of a kind prints) on the restored etching press, for three hours.

When making monotypes I mix ink and roll it out over an entire plate surface and then take it away to reveal white parts of the image.  I did this several times and then several times more over the same print.  I netted six prints, most of which still need work.

Cleaning up took 45 minutes.

I packed up and went home to watch some idiot box and to try to recover from the treachery of realizing that the day was likely a complete waste of time, effort and materials.  As I did not want anybody to see the mess I made, I had brought the prints home, wrapped in a special sort of waxed paper called glasseine, which keeps the inky parts intact.

After dinner, I unpacked the prints to be sure they could dry.

They are not so bad, I may even like a couple. Tomorrow I may make some tiny ones after I finish teaching.

Time, distance and rest can change perspective so quickly.

HAPPY HAPPY

Today is my daughter's birthday so we have been out celebrating at an amazing restaurant in Philadelphia  here is the web site:

http://sushi.madamesaito.com/

A delightful place, where the owner is the outstanding chef and she made our dinner!  Her personal story is fascinating, including earning an honorary EDd from Temple.  Not too often have I been served hand made sushi by a Dr. of Education.  Thank you Mme Saito.

Tomorrow I teach, substituting for a very good art teacher, which is tough, because her students really miss her when she is out.  I will do my best, but will go to bed early to prepare my stamina for their teenage energy!

Happy Birthday, Happy Sushi, happy Friday!

Progress